


When The Clock Runs Out

by askboxangel



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3966502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askboxangel/pseuds/askboxangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the Tumblr prompt of having a time on your arm counting down to when you meet your soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly Hollence but it is Hollstein endgame. You have been warned.

She looked down at her inner forearm.

Blinking back at her in thin, red lines were her numbers.

_Three days, six hours, twenty eight minutes…_

She sighed and traced her finger over the lines beneath her skin, watching as the minutes slowly changed.

Everyone waited for this moment. The moment their numbers ticked down to zero.

She’d seen a handful of her friends’ numbers reach zero.

The excitement that glimmered in their eyes as they looked around for their person.

Everyone always talked about how it was the most thrilling moment in their lives.

And she couldn’t wait to experience that moment. The moment her eyes would lock with someone else’s and her minutes would turn to seconds before hitting zero.

_I can do three more days. Hell, I’ve waited twenty years already. What’s three more days, right?_

She shook her head and rolled her shoulders, pulling her long hair back away from her face sliding her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

She pulled the soft fabric of her old, torn-up jeans up over her hips, fastening her worn leather belt with a practiced ease.

Pulling on an old t-shirt, she grabbed her keys and headed out to work.

“Shit,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes at the choked sound of her car engine. “Looks like I’m taking the bus today then.”

Thankfully she’d gotten up a little early and had enough time to get to the stop.

She looked down at her wrist, checking her watch.

_What the hell…_

Her numbers… They…

_Five minutes, twenty-three seconds…_

She’d read, of course, of people’s numbers skipping or dropping suddenly but it was so rare. She certainly didn’t think it’d happen to her.

_Famous last words, idiot._

Her hands started to shake as she sat and waited for the bus.

_God why did I decide to wear my rattiest fucking clothes today? Stupid car. I needed those days to prepare… I didn’t even shave my legs!_

Her fingertips traced over the lines on her arm, a habit she’d picked up as a kid.

It used to give her hope, seeing the numbers.

But right now she couldn’t be more terrified.

_Oh god what if he sees me and thinks I look like a hot mess?_

She got so wrapped up in her thoughts, she barely noticed the bus pull up in front of her.

_Two minutes, fifteen seconds…_

She shouldered her bag, stepping onto the bus.

Her eyes were wide, she knew. A few people moved to put their bags next to them at the sight of her.

_Keep it together, woman._

Plastering on a smile, she walked toward the back of the bus, sliding into an empty seat.

_One minute, thirty nine seconds…_

Cars blurred past, the rushing in her ears drowning out the chatter, her eyes fixed on her numbers.

The bus pulled up to a stop. She searched wildly, trying to find her person in the small group at the stop.

An elderly man stepped onto the bus, tipping his hat at the driver.

_Nope._

A mother carrying a baby, holding the hand of a young girl.

_Still no._

_Twenty seconds…_

A young man wearing a band t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans stepped on, carrying his skateboard in his hand.

_… Maybe?_

_Fifteen seconds…_

A smooth businessman stepped on, his hair slicked back and oiled, his suit impeccably tailored.

_… Probably not._

_Ten…_

A young girl got on, fumbling with her bus pass, nearly dropping the books in her arms.

_Nine…_

The doors to the bus closed.

_Eight…_

The young girl took her bus pass in her teeth as she walked, eye searching for an open seat.

_Seven…_

Finally spotting an open seat, she headed toward it, smiling apologetically as she tripped over someone’s bag.

_Five…_

_It can’t be._

_Four…_

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the other passengers, trying to detect some kind of movement from the other passengers.

_Three…_

No.

_Two…_

It’s impossible…

_One…_

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

_Zero._

“That’s not possible.”

“… I think it is. There’s am empty seat next to you…”

“I.. My time ran out.”

The girl stood, staring back at her, her brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry?”

“Look at your arm.”

“… May I sit down first?”

“Sorry. Sure. Yeah.”

The girl placed her bag on the floor next to her seat, settling down, wincing as her hair got caught between her books.

“… C-can I see your arm please?”

“I’m not sure why but… Oh my god.”

“P-please tell me mine isn’t the only one that zeroed out.”

“It’s not possible. My reading told me I had  _years_  this morning…”

The girl held her arm out. In smooth, light blue, curling script, her arm read…

_Zero._

_“_ I… I’m not gay.”

“Your arm reads zero, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then it looks like you might be. At least a little bit. I’m Laura,” the girl said, extending her hand, smiling nervously.

“D-Danny,” the red-head replied, shaking her hand tentatively.

“Well it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been waiting.”

“Me too. I guess.”

“… You seem really disappointed for someone who just found her soulmate… Which is a little judgmental because I’m pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t expect you to be a girl.”

“I can wear a suit if you’d like.”

Danny laughed for the first time all day.

“I.. It’ll just take me a bit to get used to it.”

“Well. Can we start with something simple?”

“I… That depends.”

Laura grinned and reached for Danny’s hand, pausing when she saw the girl flinch.

“Do you trust me?”

“Um. I suppose.”

_Smooth, Lawrence. This is supposed to be your moment._

Laura bit her lip and extended her hand, letting her fingertips skim gently over the back of Danny’s hand.

The tips of her fingers caught the edge of Danny’s palm and she turned it over, sliding her hand into Danny’s slightly larger one.

Their fingers interlocked.

Danny sat with wide eyes at the feeling of a hand fitting so  _perfectly_  in hers.

A girl’s hand.

“J-just give me some time.”

“As long as you need, Danny.”

* * *

Six months later, Danny couldn’t be more in love with her short, brunette girlfriend.

“Danny?”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me?”

Danny walked into the kitchen, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, a book clutched in her right hand.

“What’s up, Laura?”

Looking up, Danny couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s not funny!”

“Oh it  _definitely_  is.”

“Danny just help me get the damn thing.”

Danny chuckled at her girlfriend, seeing her on her tip-toes reaching for the highest shelf, fingertips barely reaching the very edge.

Sliding up behind the shorter girl, Danny’s hand easily grasped the blue coffee mug shaped like a TARDIS. Dropping a kiss on Laura’s lips, she handed the girl the cup.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

Their one-year anniversary was… Rough.

“Danny, you can’t keep fighting my battles  _for_  me.”

“I’m trying to  _protect you.”_

“Well did it ever occur to you that I can protect myself? That I can handle things on my own?”

“Laura, you’re my girlfriend. We’re supposed to handle things  _together_.”

“God. You just don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what, exactly, Laura?”

Laura sighed and ran a hand through her hair. And that’s when Danny’s eyes caught something.

“Laura, let me see your arm.”

“I don’t want you to touch me and hold my hand right now. I’m pissed off.”

“Laura. Let. Me. See. Your. Arm,” Danny gritted out, her hands starting to shake.

“I don’t see what the hell you’re–  _What the fuck?!”_

Danny reached out and grasped Laura’s wrist, turning her arm over.

Blinking back at her, she clearly read in curly, blue script.

_Six days, twelve hours, forty seven minutes…_

“Y-Your numbers.”

“I… Can they do that?”

“I… I don’t… I’m not your–”

“Let me see your arm. Maybe…”

“Laura, no. My arm has read zero from the minute you asked me if you could sit by me on the bus.”

“That isn’t possible… How is it…”

“I’m not your soulmate,” Danny choked, dropping Laura’s arm. “But you’re mine.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve never heard of this… I mean… This doesn’t happen…”

“Look at your damn arm, Laura! It’s happening. Your numbers are back. And in six days you’ll find your brand new soulmate.”

“Danny… What do we do?”

“We break up. I end up alone. You end up happy with who-the-fuck-ever.”

“That’s not possible… Danny… I… I love you.”

Danny shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

“I love you, Laura. But you’re meant for someone else.”

“But I’m meant for you too–”

“It hasn’t been working. We’ve been arguing. You’ve been unhappy.”

“Danny, stop it. Please just–”

“I need to go,” Danny choked out, turning and stalking out of the room and out of Laura’s apartment door. She started jogging back to her apartment, gasping for breath between sobs.

_She’s not yours anymore._

_Her numbers reset._

Danny slammed the door of her apartment shut. Her back slid down the door and she stared at the unchanging number on her arm.

“Come on, come on, come  _on!”_ Danny growled, rubbing her hand furiously over the stagnant number.

_Zero._

* * *

A month passed and Danny barely looked at her arm anymore.

She took to wearing long-sleeved shirts, refusing to look down at her arm.

She watched people around her having their moments and cringed every time she witnessed it, her fingers tracing over what she knew to be a zero.

She tried to stay friends with Laura but seeing her with  _Carmilla_  made her sick.

Laura was supposed to be her soulmate.

Laura ran her numbers down to zero and then left her…

She scratched at her forearm again and sighed.

* * *

“How have you been, Danny?” Laura asked, stirring her hot cocoa slowly.

Danny plastered on her best fake smile.

“I’ve been alright.”

“Now how have you really been?”

Danny sighed. Of _course_ Laura knew her well enough to know that was a lie.

“I’ve been… Okay. I guess. Not terrible. Not great.”

Laura nodded in understanding.

“I’m probably not who you want to talk to about this, huh?”

Danny shrugged, pushing her long sleeves up her arms.

“I’ll get over it. We’re friends. I don’t want to lose you just because my numbers ran out. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find someone else whose numbers ran out or something.”

Laura smiled softly, reaching across the table to take Danny’s hand comfortingly. She smoothed her thumb over the girl’s knuckles and Danny smiled sadly at their joined hands.

“Danny.”

“What, Laura?”

“Look.”

Danny rolled her eyes and looked down at her arm.

_Twenty-six days, two hours, forty-five minutes…_

“Looks like you’ve still got time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve always kind of believed that there isn’t just one person for people. I’ve always been a big believer of things having the right timing or events causing someone to change enough so that a couple isn’t compatible anymore. And that’s okay. People really do change. The only thing you’re guaranteed about life is that things will change. Be it for the better or for the worse, they will change. And believing that people don’t change as well just feels naive to me.  
> Anyway, I’ve always kind of believed that there’s no such thing as “the one” and that people can be right for each other in a moment and that moment can pass.  
> Idk. It’s a weird perspective to have but yeah. Hopefully it was enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Carmilla's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains character death (Ell and The Dean) and graphic descriptions of Carmilla being trapped in the coffin.

Mircalla smiled down at her arm, admiring the swirling purple script that looked as if it were handwritten by an artist.

_Forty-eight days, ten hours, fifty-two minues…_

She remembered when she was young in Syria being confused at the blankness on her arm.

Most people got their numbers when they were around five or six and hers just… never showed up.

It wasn’t until she’d awoken with senses that almost made her crazy with the violent onslaught of sounds, sights, and smells suddenly amplified by her newfound abilities that she understood why.

She remembered when her arm first read one hundred years.

Slowly she had counted down the months, days, hours…

She’d spend long nights just counting the minutes, sliding her finger over the smooth script below her skin.

It felt almost cruel that she had so much time left to wait when others only had a couple decades at most… But almost two-hundred years?

By the time she’d made it down to one year, she felt anticipation building in her stomach with every passing hour.

She had made it through seventy-four years as a vampire  _still_  without numbers.

Days seemed to sort of blend into one another, the only thing keeping her interest were the books she was able to pick up here and there.

She was sure that at this point she’d read every well-known book on the planet.

She sighed and ran a hand through her curly hair, letting it loose to fall over her shoulders.

_I hope, my love, that you are as ready to meet me as I am to meet you._

* * *

_One hour, twenty minutes…_

Mircalla felt absolutely ill with the prospect of  _finally_  meeting her person.

Were it not for the fact that she had already died, she’d be sure this feeling is  _exactly_  what death would feel like.

Her stomach felt as though it had been tied in intricate knots, each growing tighter with every passing second.

_Five minutes, fifteen seconds…_

It used to shock her how she’d look down at her arm, feeling as though only seconds had passed to find that she’d spent hours in her mind.

_Likely due to the fact that you have existed far longer than you should have by most standards._

Sighing, she twirled her hair between her fingers.

Frustrated with the prospect of having to carry out a task for her mother while trying to find her _someone,_ Mircalla paced nervously.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this anxious.

Probably back when she was still a young girl of eighteen.

 _Well, the first time I turned eighteen,_  she thought to herself, rolling her eyes.

_Ten…_

_Nine…_

_Eight…_

_Seven…_

_Six…_

Mircalla felt the presence of a young girl approaching.

_Wonderful. Mother’s little project is coming near._

_Five…_

_Four…_

Pausing, Mircalla spun slowly, surveying her surroundings. It seemed to be deserted apart from…

Oh god.

_Two…_

_One…_

“Oh! My apologies! I didn’t realize–”

Mircalla looked into hazel eyes that felt like they were burning her from the inside out, eating up every bit of air inside her, leaving her positively breathless.

“It’s q-quite alright, miss. I often find myself to be,” Mircalla trailed off, eyes wandering over the girl’s delicate, pale, exposed neck. “ _distracted.”_

The girl looked down shyly, fidgeting lightly with the gloves covering her fingers.

“I’m Ell,” she offered, extending her hand.

“Mircalla.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.”

Mircalla allowed her eyes to drag over a fragile-looking forearm, eyes desperate to find the numbers she  _needed_  to see.

_Zero._

“And you as well, Miss Ell.”

* * *

“Mother,  _please_.”

“Mircalla, you knew going into this that she was the target for mother’s…  _project.”_

“I undertand. But… My numbers…”

“Your numbers are so far below insignificant in the grand scheme of things, dear. You have a job to do.”

Mircalla bit back tears as she nodded to the harsh woman in front of her.

“I… I understand.”

“Perfect.”

Mircalla nodded again, turning to leave the room.

“And Mircalla?”

Mircalla looked up, locking eyes with the dark, hard eyes of the woman she called her mother.

“If you run? I will find you. There isn’t a corner of this earth where you could hide from me, dear,” she chuckled lowly, the corner of her lips upturned, twisting her mouth into a devilish smirk. “And when I do find you… I will bring new meaning to the words pain and suffering as you seem to know them now.”

* * *

“We’ll have to run, my love.”

“Where will we go? I have family here. I cannot simply run off with you… Mircalla, I have a life here.”

“I know that. But you need to trust me. We need to leave as soon as we can.”

Ell sighed, reaching forward to take Mircalla’s hands.

“I know you’re afraid, my love. But I need you to trust me. Do you not trust me?”

Soft hands cupped Mircalla’s cheek.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then we need to run at the soonest opportunity. We can slip away into the night.”

“For you, I will run, Mircalla,” Ell whispered, pressing her forehead to that of the girl in front of her.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

* * *

Her throat was made of flames, her skin raw as though scrubbed harshly for hours… days…

Her eyes would never adjust to the endless darkness around her.

She’d already torn off her fingernails against the solid wood around her, her skin tight and sticky with dried blood.

Her hair felt brittle as though it could snap with the slightest pressure.

She leaned up and pressed her forehead to the top of the coffin.

_If there is any mercy in this world, I beg that it falls to me. Any shred of mercy to free me from this hell._

She’d long since cried out every drop of fluid left in her body.

She could count her ribs easily with her fingers, her hip-bones prominent.

She was skeletal, emaciated with her years spent below ground.

_Mercy. Let me die here… I’m nothing more than a monster doomed to live out an eternity in this endless darkness…_

_“You brought this on yourself, Mircalla, you foolish girl.”  
_

_“Y-you’re a monster.”  
_

The words rang through her mind, echoing as though screamed through an empty hall.

_Mercy._

_Please._

She felt the earth shake and her eyes widened.

She must’ve imagined it. It couldn’t possibly–

Everything around her shook again, and she braced her hands on the walls of her coffin.

_What could’ve possibly–_

Suddenly the earth around her exploded to life, splinters of wood piercing her skin, light burning her to her very core.

_Light._

Mircalla struggled to open her eyes as she felt an overwhelming heat blanket her body.

_I… I’m free._

* * *

“Don’t argue with me, Carmilla. You know how well that went last time,” her mother smirked darkly. “And we all know how well running went for you last time.”

Will barked out a laugh, leaning back in his seat, happy to watch Carmilla take a verbal beating this time.

Carmilla gritted her teeth and nodded.

“Fine. What kind of crazy rouse am I to take on this time?”

“Well you were useless as a baker. I suppose we’ll make you a shop-keep at one of the local shops.”

“Any details or…?”

“Figure it out on your own. You know what you’re to do. I tire of the petty nonsense of finding you a backstory.”

“Alright,” Carmilla replied cooly, rolling her eyes as she stood.

“And Carmilla?”

“Yes,  _mother_?”

“Attempt to sabotage me again and I’ll make a blood-filled coffin look like a trip to the theatre.”

Will chuckled darkly as Carmilla passed him, her hands shaking slightly as she swiftly exited the room.

Pacing around her small apartment, she rubbed her forearm.

_Twelve years, seven days, three hours, fifty-five minutes…_

Carmilla dropped to her knees, scooting back until her back rested against the wall.

She remembered emerging from the coffin, seeing that her numbers were back from zero.

The first thing she experienced upon stumbling over this discovery was a sinking feeling of dread, weight flowing through every inch of her body like lead through her veins.

She couldn’t imagine losing someone else like she’d lost Ell.

_Then maybe I won’t let them go._

_Not this time._

* * *

In the middle of the night, Carmilla still kept up her habit of tracing the numbers on her arm.

_Three months, ten days, five hours, three minutes…_

She counted, this time in french, the seconds until her arm shed one more minute.

That is… Until her numbers seemed to stop.

Her forearm prickled gently and her numbers started to fade.

She sat bolt upright, rubbing her skin.

Instead of their normal bright-purple script, her numbers had faded to a blue-grey, unchanging as if someone had pressed the pause button on her timer.

_How is that possible…?_

* * *

Years had passed and Carmilla’s numbers remained locked in what appeared to be some kind of limbo.

She’d already exhausted every option in her head of what could’ve happened.

_Maybe she’s in a coma._

_Maybe her family moved away._

_… Maybe she found someone else._

She’d nearly driven herself mad with the possibilities that drifted through her mind night after night.

She played the night before over in her mind.

_Mother had come over to check on her progress with the latest girl for whatever sick project she had going._

_Will slipped inside, clerly drunk, holding something behind his back…_

_He stumbled forward, his eyes red-rimmed, the room filling with the smell of some kind of scotch._

_Mother had taken his girl just as she had Carmilla’s._

_Carmila’s heart squeezed in her chest with sympathy._

_Sure, she and Will’s relationship couldn’t be described as loving in any way._

_But she knew that feeling of loss._

_The unbearable emptiness in your chest that feels like it’ll burn you from the inside out starting right where your heart used to be._

_Her eyes widened slightly at her brother as she kept her mother’s attention on her._

_He eyed Carmilla pleadingly._

_She knew what he wanted to do immediately, seeing the chunk of wood clutched in his hand._

_Seeing what he had planned to do, she lunged forward, snapping the broom handle clutched in her hands, throwing herself toward her mother, hoping to occupy her mother long enough for him to–_

_Her mother chuckled darkly, catching her wrists easily._

_“Carmilla did you really think that would work?”_

_She laughed.  
_

_“William, come help me with your sister. She seems to have flown off the handle. Pun unintended.”  
_

_Carmilla nodded, closing her eyes._

_“See, Carmilla, William has_ always _had his mother’s best interest in mind. Quite unlike you. William what are you–”  
_

_Her words were choked as Will stabbed the wood through her back, tears falling freely down his cheeks._

_“You’ve taken_ everything _from me,” he gasped, forcing the stake further into her back.._

_“Will–” mother choked out, her eyes widened and her body slowly melted into ash.  
_

So caught up in mopping the floor for the hundredth time, she barely noticed the prickling of the skin of her arm.

Her arm itched and she scratched it gently, brow creasing when the skin burned lightly.

She turned her arm over and gasped.

_Six days, twelve hours, forty-seven minutes…_

* * *

_Ten minutes, twenty-three seconds…_

Carmilla wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

It had been a slow day in the restaurant and Carmilla was more than happy for the break it provided.

That is, until she started to fixate on the numbers on her arm.

She went about rearranging the cups at the bar, placing them in perfect rows, cleaning and wiping down each one to keep her mind busy.

_Twenty seconds…_

Carmilla held her breath, looking anxiously toward the door.

“Carmilla, come here!” she heard her boss call from the back.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, walking into the back, wringing her hands.

“It’s dead today. You can head home if you’d like.”

She nodded silently, watching as the numbers on her arm quickly descended toward zero.

Grabbing her bag, she counted the seconds in her mind, trying to focus on getting out to the front before her time ran out.

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One…_

“….Are you guys open?”

Carmilla’s eyes looked up and she felt herself melt beneath the gaze of the small brunette before her.

“It’s you.”

“… I’m sorry?”

Carmilla cleared her throat softly.

“Yeah. They’re still open, cutie. I’m headed home, though.”

The girl blushed lightly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I could always stay and eat though. If you’d like some company,” Carmilla offered shyly.

“That would be..,” the girl trailed off and gasped, noticing the numbers on her arm.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one,” Carmilla asked, her eyes closing tightly.

“I lost track of the time… I didn’t realize…I’m Laura.”

“Carmilla.”

“I feel like I’ve waited forever for this moment and I almost missed it because I got so caught up in finding somewhere different to have lunch…”

Carmilla chuckled.

“You really wouldn’t believe how long I’ve waited for you, Laura.”

Laura shook her head, smiling.

Carmilla’s face broke into a warm smile.

“Would you like to grab a booth? I can walk you through the menu.”

Laura nodded then paused, taking a step toward Carmilla.

Carmilla eyed the girl cautiously, smirk firmly in place over her lips.

“Can I…”

“Can you what, exactly, cutie?”

Laura’s eyes sparkled and she reached out, grabbing Carmilla by the collar, dragging her lips to her own.

Carmilla felt her hands tremble as she brought them up, fingertips gliding reverently over Laura’s cheekbones, her eyes sliding closed.

And in that moment, Carmilla knew she’d found her forever.


End file.
